#kotfe chapter 12

Theron Shan was unflappable... or at least, that was the image the former Republic operative fostered. As a result, it was the general consensus among those who had worked with him. Restless? Yes. Rebellious? Certainly. But he usually recovered from whatever the field threw at him, quickly shifting from “Plan B” to Plan “X”, “Y”, or “Z,” depending on the severity of the situation. So when Lana saw him stagger in the midst of a briefing, she knew something was wrong.

A quick glance to both Senya and the holoimage of Jorgan confirmed that they, too, had noticed. “Major, would you mind taking over from here?” she asked. “Agent Shan and I will try to raise Commander Emrys.”

“Understood,” the Bothan replied with a curt nod. He had already launched into a summary of the communications facility by the time Lana stepped aside and grasped Theron by the arm. She didn’t stop until they had reached the relative privacy of the commander’s quarters.

The Sith looked over her colleague with a diagnostic eye, nudging gently at his Force presence. “Theron?”

Blinking to refocus, Theron looked back to Lana. “I’m fine,” he said. The taut pitch in his voice said otherwise, however.

“Theron, I just dragged you away from an intelligence briefing.” Lana eyed him skeptically. “You’re not ‘fine.’”

His lips thinned and he regarded her for a long moment, golden brown eyes assessing her fortitude on the matter. She must have easily communicated her refusal to budge because he eventually sighed, looking away. His hands came to rest on his hips. “Our connection’s gone.”

The admission was so quiet that Lana took a moment to process what had been said. “Gone? As in --?” Whether for his sake or her own, she couldn’t bring herself to say the word.

“I don’t think so.” Theron shook his head with a frown. “She was there... and then she...wasn’t.There was no warning -- no fear, no adrenaline, no cries for help. Like someone just flipped a switch.”

Folding her arms across her chest, Lana mulled over the situation. “She did go to try and communicate with Valkorion,” she said. “It’s possible he’s temporarily severed the connection for his own reasons.”

The former SIS operative scowled and began to pace the small, open area beside the couch arrangement. “He’s the reason we’re here in the first place,” he muttered. “If he really wants to stop his own kids, he should be willing to share with the rest of the class.”

“Something tells me,” Lana replied slowly, “that Vitiate -- Valkorion’s not the sharing type.”

“Neither am I.” He made another lap of his small route. His control was strong, she noted, but she could feel the turmoil inside begin to tip slowly over as the moments passed: fear, concern, frustration, irritation, and anger, which spiked briefly before dissipating. How he had managed it, Lana wasn’t sure, attributing it to his early training.

“He hasn’t harmed her,” she pointed out. Her gaze followed him, much the way someone might follow a wallball match. “If anything, he’s protected her.”

“That’s because he needs her.” Theron grimaced. “Or says that he does. I’m more worried about when he decides she’s no longer useful. What happens then? What if...” He paused, drawing a breath before finishing his thought. “What if that’s now?”

Lana regarded him for a long moment, following his strides to and from, studying the emotions flickering through him and across his features. Like most operatives, he had always been a loner: No one else to worry about -- no partner, no close family, no significant other. He’d also worried very little about himself, really, if she was honest. Usually, he was concerned only with surviving a mission, not necessarily the condition in which he did so. Worry about someone else was new to him. She was not yet ready to say how well he was handling the change.

Of course, worrying about the Outlander was new to her as well. Relationships, romantic or otherwise, were best used for personal gain. Thus, true friendships, where the parties trusted one another, were exceedingly rare among the Sith. It was only through her work with the Alliance, watching interactions between Jedi, troopers, and even smugglers that she began to understand. And, while trust was a rare commodity between Sith and Jedi, Annya had thus far been willing to take a chance. Mutual respect allowed them to form a tentative friendship that Lana was forced to admit she did not wish to lose.

“You said yourself, you felt no adrenaline spike; no fear,” she began slowly. Her mind tumbled through a logical path, knowing Theron would prefer she speak her mind, rather than share worn platitudes. “If he truly wanted her dead, you would have sensed something -- he’d have no desire to prolong the experience, much less close you out.”

Her lips thinned. “He’d want you to sense her.”

At this, Theron stopped, turning to regard her with strangely neutral expression, his gaze flitting over her features as his mind caught up to what he saw and heard. He nodded. His hands came back to rest on his hips. “So how long do we wait before we send out search and rescue?”

“We don’t.” Lana almost chuckled, sensing his surprise. “If Vitiate -- Valkorion -- decides to make a point, Annya may very well need our assistance. We’ll deploy the sensor droids, see if we can at least locate her.”

Agent Shan nodded. “I’ll try and raise her on the comm, but…”

“But?” The Sith prompted, feeling a wave of uncertainty ripple around him.

“One of us should visit the enclave -- see if Sana-Rae or any of the others have sensed anything.”

It wasn’t a bad idea, she thought, but it was likely a waste a time. Even if he didn’t quite trust this new Force sensitivity, Theron, himself, would be the first to sense a change. At the same time, Lana recognized his growing restlessness: He needed to feel he was doing something to rescue the Jedi. The Alliance, however, needed his skills more at the moment.

“I’ll go,” she replied. “You should complete the briefing and get to work with Jorgan. We’ve got to start building a timetable for the operation.”

Theron nodded. “Right.” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “The war continues.”

“It does. And, sooner or later, Annya’s going to walk through those doors with something to help us win it.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Lana gave a smile, wider than she felt at that moment. “You know I am. Now go -- before I have Ogurobb sedate you.”